Ye Brave Troubadour by Mbo
In the golden days of yore
In a simple time that is no more
There was a lively troubadour
Who loved to turn a tune
He lived for many kinds of song
From galliards to ballads long
And never known to play a note wrong
Under the sun or under the moon
He was the knight's and guard's delight
They all rejoiced at just one sight
In the dark there burned a light
Of intellect and wit
A large, round, tawny lute he played
A great one he himself had made
With fancy-crafted wood inlayed
And for it, many works were writ
At the castle, at the fort
He even graced the King's own court
With songs and dances of every sort
Never would he quit
And when the King went off to war
With soldiers, knights, squires, and more
They took the lively troubadour
With them on their way
On a horse's back he spent
Playing marches as they went
And at night, in his tent
The soldiers came to hear him play
And when a heavy fight ensued
To his lute he stayed glued
With his tunes he set the mood
Above the battle's roar
But alas! An arrow stray
Pierced him in an awful way
Prostrate on the ground he lay
The lively singer was no more
The noble soldiers, with honor due
Erected there, a statue to
The courageous little lutenist who
Had died in glory, brave and true.
Matthew Richards